Well. It's official. I'm now an 80 year old New Yorker. No, no, I know, I look good for my years, but it's true. How do I know that I'm an 80 year old New Yorker? Well, because this now lives in my bedroom.
Yep, the grocery cart.
I think she needs a name. My cars have always had names and this is probably as close as we'll come here to owning a car in the city. So far Will thinks it should be Melinda and I'm rooting for Broomhilda. I once had a teacher who called his wife Broomhilda. And if a Mrs. Willis was ever turned into a shopping cart, I'd like to think she'd be this kind of shopping cart. Sturdy, efficient, but with a swanky little clip to hold her in place when she's folded up.
Practical though she may be, she's also a little plain. I mean, I know black is slimming and all, but really! Black tires, black frame, black handle? Maybe a little too much black there. I think she needs pimping. I need there to be a Pimp My Grocery Cart show. Or, you know, I could just pimp her myself.
But how did we end up with a grocery cart you ask? Well, Briton and I have been working on a little math challenge involving comparative shopping. Each time we head to the store for a major grocery shop, I make a list and Briton records how much each item costs. And we've been hitting a different store each time in order to figure out which store has the best deals on the things we buy. Before we moved we got all sorts of advice on which store to shop at, everyone had an opinion, which was helpful. Except groceries are muy muy expensive in New York and we are on a much tighter than usual grocery budget (and our grocery shopping was always pretty budget) so I'm hoping that after a few more comparisons, we'll have a better idea about which store is the best one for us to shop at. And a cool graph. Because we like graphs around here. Or, more likely, we'll just see how much we're spending on groceries in this city. (Yikes!)
This weekend the whole family traipsed through the neighborhood to the closest Fairway in the name of further comparison. I'd been to the Fairway on the Upper West Side and, honestly, it was the best grocery store I'd seen in New York. But that one was far and there was, supposedly, a bigger and better one just a mere 10 (as it turned out it was actually more like 17, Google Maps, I tell ya, they are not always right!) blocks from our front door.
When we got there we found that, indeed, it was bigger and better. And almost reasonably priced (still not a lot of generics. There are no freaking generics in this town! I get a twitch in my cheek every time I have to buy a $6 box of Kellogg's Shredded Wheat. Where is the Malt-O-Whatever in the big bags???) So we loaded up, intending to take a cab home. But...it was such a nice day. And there we were by the Hudson River, so pretty. Wouldn't it just be better to walk home through Riverside Park? It would be better to walk, and cheaper without the cab ride. But home was up hill and the bags were, at this point, many. And the cart was just sitting there, next to the checkout line, just willing me to take her home.
So now she sits, folded up, thankfully, in the corner of our bedroom, waiting for her next grocery adventure. And there will be more grocery adventures for her. Because, now that I have her, I've got to see what this baby can do, Right?
I'm thinking flames. She needs flames. What do you think? Would flames be too much?